


The Price of Victory

by SunlightOnTheWater



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Castiel, Demon Dean Winchester, F/M, Fallen Angels, Fallen Castiel, Fledglings, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightOnTheWater/pseuds/SunlightOnTheWater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes winning, winning is no fun at all."-The Doctor, <em>Vincent and The Doctor</em></p>
<p>Heaven and Hell had descended (or risen in Hell's case) to earth to battle out their differences. In the midst of a skirmish one of Hell's Fallen Angels, Castiel, accidentally captures a fledgling angel. Trouble ensues as Castiel and acting King of Hell in Lucifer's absence, Dean, struggle with discretely getting a frightened fledgling back home. </p>
<p>Updates on Wednesdays</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam

It was supposed to have been safe. The shattered and snow covered ruins of what had once been a town called Indianapolis had been abandoned for days and Sam, as one of the few fledglings in Heaven, had been growing restless. Uriel, as one of the fledgling's preordained protectors, had agreed to take Sam somewhere safe on Earth to explore a bit and perhaps stretch his developing wings with little glides. Gabriel and Anael, Sam's other two remaining protectors, had agreed to the location. Indianapolis, or what remained of the once bustling streets and massive buildings stretching towards the sky, had been untouched by war for five years now, which should have made it safe for them to descend to. Instead it had been a trap.

Now Sam was huddle behind a stack of rubble, rocks and shards of glass and chunks of plaster, clutching a freshly broken arm against his chest. When the demons had crept out of their hiding place one of them had grabbed Sam and snapped his arm. The fledgling had cried out and Uriel had coldly smote the demon before telling Sam to hide. Now the fledgling watched the proceedings with wide eyes, trembling white wings folded tightly against his back. Uriel was fighting with three of the demons, keeping their attention on him, and Sam wondered if his protector had called for one of the others. If he hadn't he should do so soon or what had happened to Haniel would happen to Uriel.

Haniel had been the last of Sam's four protectors, the angel of harmonious love. She had been killed in battle months ago, leaving Sam to occasionally reach for the gentle touch of a bond constantly gushing with warmth and affection that was no longer there. Sam's bond with Uriel was neither warm nor affectionate but he didn't think he could stand another empty space where Uriel should have been. He watched as Uriel dispatched one of the demons in a blaze of golden grace and turned toward the other two that were circling him warily. He was so absorbed in what was happening that he didn't noticed the final figure until it was too late.

A hand wrapped around Sam's wounded arm and pulled the whimpering fledgling out of his hiding place. "Drop your weapon angel," a voice sneered and Uriel turned to face them.

"Why should I?" the angel sneered back, grace going almost dark, and Sam shuddered at the sight. He whimpered again as a blade pressed against his throat, gleaming with grace and practically dripping with darkness in his angelic sight. An angel blade. "One of the Fallen," Uriel growled. "I should have known."

"Drop your weapon or the fledgling reaches his end," the fallen angel threatened and Uriel sneered before obeying. There was something like satisfaction on Uriel's face and Sam shivered at the sight of it. "You two," the fallen continued. "Back to where you belong before someone notices you're missing. I'll be taking this one with me. As insurance." Sam turned desperate eyes to Uriel's face, looking for any sign of rescue. Instead he got a cold, unsympathetic gaze that froze him from the inside out. The young angel was confused. What was going on? Why wasn't Uriel doing anything?

A sudden searing pain on his broken arm drew Sam's gaze down to the symbols curling down the inside of the that injured arm. Across the inside of his wrist was the word for guardian in Enochian and underneath that were each of the symbols that represented each of his protectors. Gabriel's was first, then Anael's, and finally Uriel's. It was Uriel's mark that was being seared away from his arm. It was the last thing he saw on Earth before black wings snapped around him and his surroundings changed. The snow that had crunched under his feet was suddenly gone, replaced with unstable and cracked rock. He stumbled, crying out when the motion tugged on his broken arm, and the wings folded away. Instantly screams and wails and wicked laughs washed over him, making him sick. The feeling of evil slid over his young grace with a feeling like gloppy oil running over his skin. He shuddered and let out a little sob. He was in _Hell_.

Panic poured over him in a waterfall and he felt his legs dropping out from under him. He crashed to the ground, sobbing as it tugged against his damaged arm once again and the jagged rocks dug into his knees. His breath was hitching, his chest heaving, and the world beginning to be covered by black spots. A hand landed between his wings and he started to dry wretch, his shaking making the world spin. There was a sound almost like an exasperated sigh and then fingertips brushed against his forehead. All at once the black spots grew and came rushing toward him. The last thing he was aware of was arms wrapped around him as he toppled down toward the ground.


	2. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra update before next Wednesday because;  
> A Number 1) I had it written already  
>  _and_  
>  Number 2) I just finished my last final exam this afternoon!

"Castiel has returned my liege," Meg said from her perch on the arm of Dean's throne. Well, technically it was Lucifer's throne but the Morningstar was busy directing armies on Earth so Dean as his representative was sitting in his place. "He's brought something with him too."

"The plague?" Dean questioned wryly, arching an eyebrow at the other demon.

"Sadly no," Meg drawled. "Supposedly it's a special surprise for you. And it's breathing. Or was when I last saw it." Meg's face wrinkled in disgust as she spoke about whatever surprise Castiel had in store. "He seems ridiculously satisfied with himself too."

"Send him in," Dean sighed with a wry grin. "And keep everyone else out. Castiel's surprises are generally rather explosive and I'd rather not clean off demon guts off of Lucifer's walls."

"Will do bossman," Meg drawled with a grin and then sauntered out the door. Dean watched her go with an appreciative look on his face. The last girl he'd tumbled was Ruby and she'd been a manipulative bitch who'd been trying to take the throne from Dean, and by default, Lucifer. He'd tossed her down to the racks for Alastair to deal with. After all it would be a shame to kill such a pretty face. Meg was a different matter. He'd slept with Meg a few times, just casually. Neither one of them really felt much besides a vague since of friendship with each other. Maybe he'd ask her if she wanted to go for a round after he got through whatever Castiel had dragged down to Hell.

The fallen angel sauntered into the room when Meg opened the door for him. "Good luck," the she demon called to Dean before shutting the door. That was when Dean got a good look at what Castiel was towing along with him.

"What in Lucifer's name?" he growled and Castiel smirked, tossing the unconscious figure on the ground. Dean got a good look at fluffy white wings, an arm tucked tight against a slim chest, and a tiny frame that trembled even in oblivion. 

"I brought you a new toy," the fallen angel crooned, nudging the fledgling angel with a booted foot.

"You couldn't kill him, could you?" Dean asked and Castiel grumbled something in Enochian under his breath. "You got ahold of him and couldn't do it so now I have a fledgling angel down here and probably four angry guardians coming after him. Thanks a lot Cassie."

"He's a fledgling Dean," Castiel admitted with a sigh. "He shouldn't have even been out there. The other angels are at least trying to kill us but this one was just trying to hide. Angels don't kill the innocent. Even the fallen ones."

"Did you really have to bring him here?" Dean demanded, exasperated. "I don't need another problem to deal with."

"We'll sneak him back," Castiel replied with a shrug.

"We can't sneak him back," Dean all but roared, quieting his voice when the fledgling stirred and whimpered. "That would involve getting into Heaven and we cannot do that."

"Then we bind his grace until we can come up with a solution," Castiel shot back. "We've done it before."

"Never with an injured fledgling," Dean said tiredly but Castiel smirked as if sensing the demon giving in. In truth, Dean sympathized some with Castiel. There were only a few fallen angels in Hell's ranks besides Lucifer, who didn’t really count because he had been cast down rather than willing deciding to fall. Out of those fallen angels Azazel was a slimy bastard, Asmodeus was self-absorbed, and Lirael was in cahoots with Lilith. The fledgling's grace had to have felt like a balm against Castiel's damaged mockery of a grace. "Fine," Dean sighed. "We'll keep him until we figure out what to do but he's your responsibility. Understand?"

"Crystal clear," Castiel said with a smirk.

"Ok," Dean muttered. "I'll have Meg get a collar made up to bind him. You take care of his arm and get him settled." Castiel grinned at him, wicked blue eyes gleaming with delight, and scooped up the unconscious fledgling in his arms.

"I'll be in my rooms," the fallen angel called over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the throne room.

"Send me Meg," Dean called back at him with a roll of his eyes. Meg arrived moments later, shoving both the doors to the throne open wide enough to have them slam against the wall and then fall shut behind her.

"You rang?" she drawled and Dean grinned.

"Yes doll, I did. You see, Cas brought home a fledgling angel and we need a collar for it until we can figure out how to get it back," Dean drawled. 

"So you called me. I'm flattered."

"Be flattered," Dean grumbled. "You're the only one I trust to keep the baby angel a secret."

"Oh thank you darling," Meg purred with a roll of her eyes. "So this collar, any special notes?"

"Small enough to fit around the fledgling's neck and a lot weaker than normal," Dean said with a shrug. "I mean it's only a fledgling. Other than that, ask Cas."

"Oh I will be asking darling Cassie lots of questions," Meg replied. "Where can I find him?"

"Try his rooms," Dean suggested. "If you can't find him there then come back and I'll help you track him down."

"Thanks Dean-o," Meg called over his shoulder as she made her way back out of the throne room, leaving Dean to brood in peace.


	3. Castiel

The fledgling whimpered and thrashed in his sleep as Castiel bound his broken arm. Meg had come by an hour ago to ask him about the collar and was creating one that would allow a little of the tiny angel's grace to seep through. It would allow the fledgling to heal his arm more quickly while keeping him bound enough that he couldn't fly off or cause any damage. Something about Castiel, the part of him that was still Heaven's good little soldier, wanted to bundle the injured fledgling up in his arms and cradle the frightened angel until he had called down. Instead he forced himself to leave the fledgling in the bedroom and pace his living room waiting for Meg to return.

She pounded on the door twenty minutes later when Castiel could feel the fledgling beginning to rouse from his forced unconsciousness. "Meg, darling," Castiel purred as he opened the door.

"Save your sweet talk for someone who cares," Meg grumbled, shoving by him with a gleaming golden collar in hand. "Make sure the fledgling is under and we'll put this on him." Castiel nodded, leading Meg into the bedroom and brushing his fingers across the fledgling's forehead to send him drifting back to sleep. Meg approached the fledgling with something like awe, reaching out to gently brush against fluffy preflight feathers. Her fingers lingered there until she realized what she was doing. Then the fingers were drawn back as quickly as if she'd touched fire.

Meg opened the collar and gently placed it around the fledgling's neck. Carefully she closed it while Castiel watched closely. He knew that the demoness knew what she was doing but part of him didn't trust her with the quivering fledgling. Carefully Meg began to chant in bastardized Enochian and the collar began to glow. As the collar blazed bright, the symbols carved on it beginning to glow and squirm. The fledgling sobbed even in sleep and for a moment the light from the collar was blinding as Meg's voice rose to a near scream. Wind whipped around the room and a wave of power sent Castiel tumbling back.

After a moment everything cleared and Meg slumped to the floor. The fledgling thrashed restlessly for a moment and then slumped deeper into sleep as Castiel brushed fingers across his forehead. Meg panted on the floor and he knelt next to her, not touching but close enough to support her if she fell. "That never gets any easier," she panted out, body trembling with exhaustion.

"Thank you," Castiel told her hesitantly, standing and offering her his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet, and smirked tiredly at him.

"You're welcome," she drawled sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She turned and headed toward the door, wobbling slightly as she walked. She reached it and then hesitated, turning back and looking at the fallen angel with serious black eyes. "But I'm not doing it again."

"Noted," Castiel called after her and she stumbled exhaustedly off. Then he turned back to the fledgling. The little angel was sleeping relatively peacefully for the moment, body still curled in on itself unconsciously protecting the broken arm. Castiel could still feel the edge of that soft grace brushing against the mockery of his own, searching for some kind of comfort. Fledgling angels were rarely left alone for long periods of time without at least one of their assigned guardians. Every angel knew that, even the fallen ones. Even Lucifer respected that much. To take a fledgling angel away from his or her protectors was asking for death.

Castiel knew the rules and protocols but he had never been charged with the protection of a fledgling of his own. His year mates had begun to be assigned to fledglings but their father had never called for him. To be fair, Azazel and Lirael had never been assigned as a protector to a fledgling but Asmodeus had been assigned protector to a young Anael who was now a formidable warrior in Heaven. Still, with a fledgling lying unconscious on his bed, curled around a damaged arm, Castiel wondered again why his father had never thought he was good enough to care for a fledgling.

Maybe it was because he had been young and awkward around other angels. He hadn't know how to interact, perhaps because most of his caretakers hadn't been particularly well versed in communication. Lucifer was the exception but he had often been busy with his duties or planning his little rebellion that had ended in such disaster. Now, after years on earth and in Hell working to free Lucifer from the cage Michael had placed him in, Castiel was a little more jaded and a little more competent with handling his peers. 

He'd come to realize as time had passed digging through books for the correct formula to free their lord that he wasn't going to get answers for some of his questions. Questions about why their father had allowed them to choose to fall, why He'd ordered Lucifer locked up but given them the keys to unlocking him, and why He was absent in a world that so desperately needed his guidance. For the time being Castiel locked those questions away again and settled down on the edge of the bed to keep watch over the sleeping fledgling.


	4. Sam

He woke up calm and disoriented. His arm throbbed dully, tucked up against his chest, and he was curled up on something soft but his eyes felt too heavy to open. He shifted slight, limbs feeling heavy and hard to use, and something cold and metallic brushed against the skin of his neck. Sam froze, entire body jolting with shock as memories came crashing down. Memories of being on earth and the attack and being in Hell. Panic washed over him in waves and he feels himself beginning to hyperventilate, chest suddenly feeling too tight as he struggled to pull in enough air. His hands scrabbled for his throat as if trying to pry fingers loose and registered cold metal for the second time since he'd woken. Sam's whole body jolted at that and he gasped for air that was no longer coming. A hand landed lightly between his shoulder blades. "Easy," a voice crooned. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Just calm down."

Sam gasped, choked, and finally managed to suck a full breath into his aching lungs. He shuddered, breathed, but didn't calm. "Better?" The voice was familiar but Sam couldn't place it. His eyes flickered open and instantly they were flooded with light. He flinched, choking again and closing them as quickly as he could, and the hand moved to squeeze lightly at the back of his neck. "Take it easy." His eyes flickered open again, this time more slowly, and adjusted to the light. He was in some kind of room made entirely of huge blocks of jagged black lava rock. Bowls of fire flickered and blazed from the edges of the room, filling it with a reddish golden light. He watched the shadows dance across the jagged stone and trembled.

The hand moved away but Sam didn't move, still wary as he felt darkness swell around him. He was alone and he was in Hell and he didn't know what to do. The panic started rising up again, clenching like an iron band around his throat, and he gasped in a ragged breath. He forced himself to take another but it wasn't helping. Instead it felt as if his lungs had been sucked into a vacuum. He choked and gagged and for a moment the hand was back, rubbing circles in on his back between his wings but it wasn't helping this time. He choked again and gagged and managed an almost completely airless sob and an arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him back against another frame.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, still struggling for air, and felt himself shifted slightly. There was a rustle of wings that wrapped around his tiny frame and he leaned in automatically, searching for some kind of comfort. His grace felt as if it was all tied up in knots, his lungs felt like lead balloons, and his body was shivering with panic and pain but the light touch of wings against his own was slowly calming Sam down. "Deep breaths," the voice all but purred and Sam obeyed. 

As air began to rush back into his lungs again his whole body swayed with exhaustion. That was when he placed the voice. It was the same voice as whoever had held him captive and dragged him down to Hell. Sam's eyes wanted to snap open but he was too tired and it took a monumental effort to just open them. What he saw sent a fresh jolt of adrenalin through him.

Fully developed wings that had probably once been a coppery colored but were now a tarnished black color were wrapped around him. Fallen angel wings. Sam squeaked in fright and thrashed, tumbling backwards off the bed he'd been curled up on when he was unexpectedly released. He crashed down hard, jolting his injured arm, and he cried out, trying to scramble backwards and failing as his strength suddenly abandoned him. The fallen angel stood. He had messy black hair and very blue eyes and he practically loomed over Sam. He whimpered as the fallen knelt next to him, shrinking away as best he could. "It's okay," the dark haired figure soothed, spreading his hands as if to show he was unarmed. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just calm down."

Sam whimpered again but he didn't have the energy the flinch away when the fallen reached for him. A hand brushed lightly through his hair and then was gone. "You need rest little one," the tainted angel said, picking up Sam like he weighed nothing. Sam let out a little startled yip but he didn't have enough energy to do more than squirm weakly for a moment. He was placed gently back on the bed and he melted limply against the softness. The fallen angel chuckled and Sam squirmed again only to have a hand gentle brush through his hair to soothe him. He drifted off into darkness again, this time of his own free will.

When he came to again the room was empty. Some of the bowls of fire had gone out, leaving the room more in shadow than in light, and Sam sat up slowly, trying to shake off his sleepiness in order to think. He couldn't fly yet, not really do more than hover a moment to slow his descent, and with his grace twisted up the way it was he couldn't call for help. He was injured and alone and in Hell and he was almost sure Uriel had just let him get dragged off. That thought hurt and Sam shied away from it automatically. He carefully slid his feet to the floor, the stone surprisingly cool and smooth against his oddly bare feet, his shoes had evidentially been removed at some point, and padded hesitantly towards the door.

The room beyond was lit from a pit of fire in the center that blazed and grumbled like a caged beast. Sam shivered at the thought and stayed where he was, unwilling to go any further. It took him a moment of gazing warily at the fire for him to see the fallen angel sprawled beyond it. At first glance he appeared to be asleep. Sam hesitantly crossed the floor to the edge of the pit closest to him, wincing at the heat of the flames. His eyes felt dry and his frame was trembling slightly. Slowly he made his way around the flames.

 

The firelight dancing off tarnish black wings mesmerized him momentarily. One of his trembling hands lifted, seemingly of its own accord, and reached out to brush a feather. The fallen stirred, tensed, and Sam froze. Nothing happened. Nervously he knelt next to the fallen angel and reached out his hand again to brush along the wings. Instantly blue eyes snapped open and a hand like iron clamped around his wrist.


	5. Castiel

He woke abruptly to the touch of fingers against his wings. Castiel reacted instinctively, reaching out a hand to wrap tightly around a slim wrist. The choked cry of terror brought him out his reactionary state, reminding him that he wasn't the only person in his rooms anymore and that was why he'd been sleeping out here in the first place. The fledgling's terrified face stared back at him and Castiel forced himself to loosen his hold on the young angel's wrist. The fledgling was panting for breath but otherwise almost unnaturally still, wide hazel eyes focused on the fallen angel. "I'm sorry little one," he apologized softly. The fledgling watched Castiel warily as his arm was released retreating a couple nervous steps. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

He was relieved when the baby angel didn't bolt immediately, still staring at him cautiously. Wide hazel eyes wavered between fear and cautious curiosity, as if unsure on which emotion to settle. Castiel knew the fear wasn't going to last forever. Neither humans nor angels had been made to sustain large amounts of fear in the long term. The adrenalin would eventually wear the young angel down and the kid would either continue to exhaust himself or calm down. "Come here little one," he cooed, reaching out a hand to the fledgling. "I won't hurt you." 

The young angel had skittered back a little when Castiel had reached out a hand and now he studied the fallen angel hesitantly, as if unsure what to do next. Castiel for his part waited patiently, forcing himself to remain unmoving. Slowly the fledgling crept closer, reaching out a trembling hand to hold it an inch above Castiel's hand. The fledgling hesitated, as if waiting for Castiel to make a move. He didn't and the trembling hand descended to rest against his own. Castiel still resisted the urge to make any motion before the fledgling wrapped shaking fingers around the fallen angel's wrist. Then he gently closed his own fingers and lightly tugged the young angel forward.

The fledgling stumbled into Castiel and whimpered slightly but didn't fight. "Relax little one," he breathed, running a gentle hand through soft brown hair. "You're safe. Just relax." Slowly the shuddering breaths puffing against his neck calmed and he released the fledgling's hand, allowing a trembling hand to lightly brush against his wings. He didn't so much as twitch, knowing that a wrong move to scare off the already wary fledgling. 

Fingers slowly stopped shaking as the fledgling became absorbed with his wings, seemingly fascinated by the tarnish colored wings. Castiel shifted slowly, resettling the fledgling in his lap and gently carding a hand through baby wings. The fledgling purred tiredly at that, relaxing further between the comforting sensation and his fascination with the fallen angel's wings. 

The door to Castiel's rooms swung open and banged lightly against the wall, making the fledgling flinch and instinctively press closer to the fallen angel. Castiel gently wrapped his wings around the young angel and then glanced up at the demon. There were only two that would come into his rooms without permission that were in Hell at the moment. One was Meg and she was irritated enough at the fallen angel not to come by for a while. The other one was Dean. "Bad day?" he asked, voice low so as not to started the fledgling clutching his shirt with trembling fingers.

"Very," Dean grumbled. "And then I come in here and find you napping."

"Actually I was taking care of my other responsibility," Castiel said meaningfully, shifting his wings slightly so Dean could see the fledgling for a moment.

"Right," Dean drawled, settling down on the floor. "I'd forgotten it already."

"Right," Castiel shot back. "Blocked out unpleasant memories is more like it." Dean snorted at that and rolled his eyes. The fledgling was calming again, slowly, and Castiel let his wings fall back to their usual position. "So what's the news?"

"More of the same," Dean grumbled, not commenting on how the fledgling was clinging to Castiel. "Death, destruction, and chaos. One source says we're losing, one says we're winning, and one just babbles on about Lucifer's glory."

"So we have no idea," Castiel returned with a smirk as the fledgling slowly uncurled and went back to stroking through the fallen angel's feathers.

"None at all," Dean agreed. The demon's eyes were fixed on the fledgling but Castiel quickly shook his head when Dean moved to reach out a hand. Dean arched a questioning eyebrow but pulled his hand back, leaving the jumpy fledgling in peace. Slowly the young angel drifted off as they talked, exchanging news in the flickering firelight, and only when he was sure the fledgling was asleep did Castiel allow Dean to reach forward and brush a hand through baby feathered wings.

"Still baby feathers," he said when Dean pulled his hand back, frowning slightly at the texture. "There are some flight feathers so maybe he can glide but nothing more."

"Very young then," Dean murmured softly. "Too young to be out here."

"Any idea how we're going to get him back?"

"None," the demon said with a sigh. "I think we'll be lucky if his protectors don't smite us all in a furious rage when they find the fledgling." Castiel shivered slightly at that thought and the fledgling whimpered. Castiel soothed the young angel gently, pressing a soft kiss against floppy brown hair. When he looked up he thought he saw a hint of a smile on Dean's face before the demon stood and softly left, leaving Castiel to keep the fledgling calm.


	6. Dean

It had been a long day. Dean had received half a dozen reports from all types of demons. They were filled with the typical bowing and scraping, all of them automatically assuming he reported their findings, successes, and losses to Lucifer himself. In all honesty, the demon had not spoken to Hell's rightful king in years nor had Lucifer given him any indication that he was still alive. Therefore all the schmoozing was nothing more than an annoyance, not that it would have been any better but at least it would have made some sort of sense. Then he'd gone to speak to Castiel only to be reminded that his friend had a new responsibility; a fledgling that needed to be somehow returned to its guardians. Preferably before they decided to come rip Hell apart.

He didn't have any idea of how they were going to accomplish returning the fledgling either. To even admit to having the child was a death sentence and he could not imagine that anyone besides Castiel would be willing to help. "Dean, darling, is everything okay?" He bit down a snarl at the tone, settling for a glare sent in Meg's direction. The demoness ignored him, leaning against his door and sending him a wide smirk. "Considering the problem of your buddy's baby angel?"

"How to get it back," he retorted. "Which is going to be easier said than done."

"It would work better if you were on the front lines," Meg agreed. "Then you could simply join up with an attack force entering Heaven and hide him there. No one would ever know the difference." She smirked at the dumbstruck expression Dean was sure was plastered all over his face. "What? Didn't think about it?"

"It could work," he admitted, considering it. "But I couldn't go to the front lines and Lucifer specifically ordered that the fallen be kept back."

"Think about it later," Meg insisted in a seductive purr. "Right now you need to relax."

Later, with Meg's warm body curled around him and her dark hair fanning across the pillow as she slept, Dean considered her preposition. The war had been heating up recently and it was feasible that Lucifer would want his fallen compatriots to join him in laying siege on Heaven. If that did happen then Dean might be able to assist his friend in sneaking the injured fledgling back into Heaven.

"You're thinking too much," he heard Meg mumble sleepily and he turned to see black eyes gazing at him blearily through half closed lashes. "The point of this was to relax."

"Sorry doll," he drawled.

"You'd better be," Meg retorted with a sleepy smirk, snaking up a hand to tug on his shoulder. He grinned and let her reposition him so she could cuddle closer. The demoness wouldn't admit it to anyone else but she was a cuddler when she was sleepy. "Now sleep. Or at least stop thinking so loudly. It's disturbing my dreams."

"Yes ma'am," Dean agreed and settled down into bed. He could work more on his problem later.


	7. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of flashback dreaming in this chapter so you get a bit of Sam's history.

Sam was dreaming. _Haniel had her arms around him and was singing, low and soft and sweet. He had his eyes closed and was hovering on the brink of sleep when a flurry of almost distressed feathers jolted him wide awake. "Uriel!" Haniel scolded while Sam squirmed in her arms, overwhelmed by Uriel's furious emotions. "Control yourself."_

_"Control myself," Uriel snarled and Sam curled into himself, trying to make himself as small as he possibly could, when arms snatched him up and cradled him close, calmer emotions washing over him. Sam snuggled into the arms, not bothering to open his eyes to see who was holding him. There was only one of his protectors that could find Uriel's irritation humorous._

_"Chill Uriel. You're distressing the kid," Gabriel chimed in and received a low snarl that was accompanied by a muted wave of fury. "Seriously," the archangel added in a more serious tone, wings flaring protectively around his charge. "If you're irritated then go fly it off or something but don't bring it here. It isn't Sam's fault that you don't like the way things are going."_

_Suddenly the world shifted violently and he was dangling above a pit of hellfire, thrashing with panic as Uriel held him over the edge. "You're the problem," the angel was sneering. "You've always been the problem." Sam was sobbing and thrashing and gasping for air, muscles trembling with desperate panic. Uriel dropped him and he was falling, hurtling towards the ground as he flapped his wings uselessly; his flight feathers hadn't developed yet. When he finally hit something it wasn't hellfire; it was water. Then he was drowning, the water sucking him down into black depths as the air was being forced out of his lungs._

"Hey kid, _kid_!" a voice said as strong hands shook Sam out of his dream turned nightmare. He panted, sucking in harsh breaths as he felt a hand rubbing circles on his back. A sob broke free as tears ran down his cheeks. His whole body was shaking and he couldn't seem to stop. Maybe it hadn't gone quite like the dream but Uriel had betrayed him; thrown him out with the trash practically. Left him to die. He felt empty inside, reaching for bonds with no response.

Arms curled around him, cuddling him close while he sobbed. Wings closed around him and he couldn't stop himself from snuggling in instinctively. "It's okay kid. You're safe. I'll protect you." Warmth rushed through him at the promise and his sobs quieted with the reassurance, so much like the ritualistic phrasing of the binding ceremony where a fledgling's protectors were assigned to the fledgling.

"Promise?" he questioned sleepily, exhausted from the nightmare and his sobbing.

"I swear," the fallen angel whispered into his hair. Sam smiled, allowing himself to drift off, relaxed by the promise of safety.

_"Shemu'el," a voice called, bright and too loud. He turned only to have a blonde haired figure barrel into him. Jophiel, or Jo, hugged him tight. She was from the same age group of fledgling's as Sam's but bolder and more prone to making herself heard. She'd attached herself to Sam before they'd been assigned protectors and her friendship had been a constant in a world defined by war against Hell._

_"Hi," he puffed out in her long blonde hair, trying not to get any in his mouth. Jo squeezed him tighter and he squirmed slightly, struggling to get in enough air. Jo was strong. He heard a low laugh and Raziel carefully untangled Jo from Sam._

_"Let him breathe Jo-Jo," the angel said with a grin and a wink to Sam. He smiled back shyly. Raziel had a nice smile, dark hair, and friendly blue eyes along with the overabundance of patience that came with anyone who was around Jo for very long. "He can't be your friend if you strangle him to death."_

_"Raziel," a bright voice called and Sam was snatched up. He snuggled up to Gabriel, relieved that the attention was off him. "Nice to see you again."_

_"A pleasure to see you too Gabriel," Raziel returned. "Although I cannot say I'm enjoying this northern weather." Gabriel laughed and Jo squirmed in Raziel's arms, reaching out toward Sam with beckoning hands. Sam smiled shyly at her and then buried his face in Gabriel's shoulder. The archangel chucked, whether at what Raziel had just said or Sam's behavior he wasn't sure, and ran a hand down his back. A moment later he flinched as Gabriel moved to put him down._

_"Go play with Jo," he murmured in Sam's ear. "I'm not going anywhere." Sam nodded and carefully released his guardians tunic, glad that Jo at least had the patience to wait until he'd released Gabriel before dragging him off. She was chattering a mile a minute but he couldn't focus because his arm was burning like it had when he'd first gotten the guardian sigils on his arm._


	8. Castiel

The fledgling had sobbed himself to sleep against his chest but Castiel remained wide awake, his own words echoing in his head. _"I'll protect you. I swear."_ He hadn't intended to say those words but they'd come out anyway. He'd promised, no matter how vaguely, to be one of the fledgling's protectors and that wasn't the kind of promise you broke. Even now the fledgling was whining slightly in his sleep, fingers twitching and clawing at the blanket beneath him as Castiel's sigil formed on his arm. This complicated things.

There was a reason bonds between fledglings and their protectors were not to be taken lightly. Fledgling angels were vulnerable, unable to summon much of their grace to defend themselves and without the ability to fly. They relied on their protectors for everything, including emotional support. As far as support, a fallen angel was not the best candidate for the job. The fledgling whined in his sleep, stirring restlessly, and Castiel cooed at him automatically, body tensing up with uncertainty. He relaxed again when the fledgling calmed without waking, tightening his arms protectively around the slim figure.

"What were you thinking kid?" Castiel asked the sleeping fledgling curiously. "Letting yourself be attached to someone like me?" The fledgling shifted closer at the sound of his voice, sighing happily, and Castiel flinched as the inside of his right wrist began to burn. Slowly he shifted it out from under the kid's shoulder and studied the flow of what looked like black ink forming on the inside of his wrist. The fledgling's name, binding Castiel to the young angel until the point where he was old enough to subside by himself.

"Shemu'el," he read softly and the fledgling shifted restlessly at the sound of his name. "That's a bit of a mouthful." He pondered the name, turning it about in his head before adding, "God has heard. Ironic considering he hasn't really been listening to anyone lately." The fledgling murmured something sleepily, slowly rousing from his slumber. Big hazel eyes opened slowly to stare blearily at the fallen angel. "Not very awake there, are you?" Castiel asked with a dry smirk and the fledgling just blinked at him. "Shemu'el, huh?" he said after a moment and the fledgling just blinked at him until he tilted his wrist so the young angel could see the name.

"Sam," the fledgling corrected tentatively and Castiel managed to pull out a semi sincere smile for the kid.

"My name is Castiel," he told Sam and the younger angel's eyes narrowed in concentration. "Angel of Thursday kid," Castiel told him. "Former angel actually." Sam nodded hesitantly but he didn't seem as terrified now that he could feel Castiel's emotions. The fledgling peered around the room almost curiously, as if truly seeing his surroundings for the first time.

"What-" Sam began before his breath hitched and he cut himself off. Castiel could feel the uncertainty pouring off the fledgling. Sam swallowed hard and then tried again. "What's going to happen to me?"

"We're going to get you back home," Castiel said, trying to project certainty across the new bond. The fledgling gave him a skeptical glance but didn't protest the statement, instead slipped away from Castiel's arms and dropping to the floor. He approached one of the flaming bowls cautiously, as if it were hellfire that might decide to bite at any moment. "It's ok," Castiel said before he even realized he was sensing Sam's thoughts. "It won't hurt." Sam shot him an odd glance and then turned back, reaching a hand out toward the fire.

Castiel was off the bed before he'd even realized he was moving, snatch Sam's arm and pulling him back. The fledgling let out a startled yelp, turning wide, wounded eyes toward Castiel. "Do be stupid," he snapped. "Just because it's not going to jump out and bite you doesn't mean you should touch it." Sam nodded hesitantly, feelings unsure, and Castiel released the fledgling.

"Having a little trouble here?" a smooth voice asked and Sam yelped, pressing hard against Castiel's side as if he was trying to vanish. Castiel tucked a wing around the fledgling as Meg smirked at the pair of them. "How's the collar working?"

"Everything's fine Meg," Castiel growled even as a bolt of betrayal flowing from Sam to the fallen angel smacked him firmly in the chest somewhere underneath the ribcage. The fledgling was squirming away from Castiel as the demoness smirked widely at him.

"Yeah," she drawled brightly. "It just sounds like you have everything under control. You're just a natural at this."

"Shut up bitch," Castiel snarled, tightening his hold on the fledgling and getting a squeak of fright in response.

"Ooh, feisty," Meg cooed. "But that isn't going to make things any easier. You see, darling Dean wants to talk to you so I'm stuck babysitting our flightless sparrow here."

"Forget it. I'm not leaving him with you."

"Funny," Meg replied with a snort. "But you don't have much choice in the matter."

"You know what? I think I do," Castiel retorted, flaring his wings. Meg took a step back, eyes wide with sudden trepidation. "Tell Dean if he wants to talk to me he can come to my rooms himself instead of sending you to be the sadistic babysitter."

"Fine," Meg snapped with a toss of her hair, fear in her black eyes. Then she whirled on her heel and stalked out of the room.


End file.
